The Blood Tournament
by Evidel
Summary: "Welcome to the 60th Blood Tournament!" Hermione knew very well that no Mudblood has ever win the Tournament. She also knew that there is a first time for everything.
1. Prologue

A/N: I am ESL so any correction about grammar/syntax/ word choice is more that welcome. Even flames about how much I suck. The prologue is very short, i know, but the next chapters wil be longer.

The Blood Tournanment

Prologue

"_Hermione Jean Granger!"_

The announcement which altered her life irrevocably was brief. Hermione though it was fitting; a brief announcement to match the rest of her brief life. She felt a little amused that this was the first time she got to hear her full name; she knew her name was Hermione but she had no idea for anything else. Things such as surnames were a luxury for someone like her.

There was a blank where her thoughts used to be. She felt so disoriented she couldn't even understand where she was. She clung to the last thing she could remember, her name. Granger. For a blessed, fleeting moment ___a memory floated_ into her mind, whispers from a past forever gone. She saw a woman. Hermione was captivated by that vision. She knew this woman's face, she could recognize it everywhere. She could see it every time she looked on the mirror. But she wasn't her, it couldn't be. This woman was older and was laughing like she has no care in the world. Hermione couldn't remember ever laughing like that.

The memory was gone as quickly as it came; Hermione realized with a startle that everyone was looking at her expectably. Three aurors were fidgeting with their wands like they were ready to stupefy her if she made any suspicious move. She looked down and saw that Jane was gripping her hand so hard like she never wanted to let go. She met her eyes, so similar to hers. She wasn't crying but she looked so sad that Hermione felt a sudden urge to comfort her, just like when she first met her, so young and grasping to a brutally stolen life. Suddenly, she remembered where she was.

She stood up from the bench where all the Muggleborn were seated and walked proudly to the stage. The announcer, a blonde woman with ridiculous glasses, almost shoved her to the centre. She let out a laugh so fake Hermione seriously doubted if it could fool even a toddler.

"There she is!" Almost everyone in the crowd started to clap furiously. People yelled obscenities. A blond man raised his wand and the three aurors Hermione saw before, struggled to restrain him. He fought hard but in the end he gave up and settled for conjuring a stone from his wand and throwing at Hemione. If he didn't want to hurt her, she would almost felt pity for him; His aim was that bad. She looked over at the benches where the rest of the Muggleborns were seated. None of them was cheering; Hermione felt grateful. Sometimes, in a vain attempt to be accepted by the Wizarding society, they mimicked the actions of those around them. She sent a silent thank you for their support. Lastly, she met Jane's eyes again. She still wasn't crying and Hermione felt a sudden rush of pride. She couldn't breathe for a while.

"Stop! Stop, right now! Bad boy!" the blond woman tried desperately to quiet the screaming crowd. She sounded like she was scolding a misbehaving dog who peed all over her new carpet. "Save your appetite for the Tournament!" At last, her words succeeded; the crowd calmed down. Hermione didn't felt particularly reassured.

"Don't forget, we have many more champions to select! So, be patient! "Rita –Hermione finally remembered her name- marched towards the flaming goblet. It spitted out a piece of parchment in a rush of red flames. Rita read the name triumphantly.

"Dean William Thomas!"

_God, no. _She wasn't really friends with Dean but she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness when she heard his name. They were brought here at the same time, so they were probably the same age. (Ages were also a luxury for people like Dean and Hermione.) These first months you had no idea where, who or what you are, were the hardest. Children tended to stick together. Hermione tried to recall the Dean of those times. A skinny, short, boy, forever eleven, whose only desire was to go home. He didn't look anything like that anymore. She noticed that he had the same reaction as her; he looked confused like he has no idea where he was. She saw him shaking his head, like he was trying to clear his mind. Nevertheless, he reached the stage quicker than her. He stood next to her and showed no sign of recognizing her.

"They are a little slow, aren't they?" People started to laugh loudly at the remark. _You would be a little slow, too, if you were sentenced to certain death, _Hermione thought bitterly.

This time, the crowd was a little more controlled and Rita, with her magically heightened voice, could easily make her next announcement. "Two more Mudbloods!" She announced their names shortly after that but Hermione didn't care enough to hear them. All she could care was Jane wasn't one of them. She knew she couldn't handle seeing the little girl she practically raised, facing this nightmare.

The ceremony was almost over and Rita made her last announcement for the night: "I'm happy to declare that the Mud blood Selection has come to an end. But don't be sad, we still have the election of the Squibs, Half-blood and Pureblood champions! See you soon!" With that, she took a small, golden cup out of her pocket. She instructed Hermione and the other three champions to touch it. In a second, they were gone, the sounds of the crowd slowly fading away.


	2. Chapter 2

The next days passed quickly. Hermione knew it was a coping mechanism her mind was using to protect her. She understood a lot of things about the human mind and how it worked thanks to some books she had borrowed from Mrs. Pomfrey. Technically, Muggleborns were prohibited from studying magic by Ministry Law, but there was no mention about Muggle studies. She had used this loophole and read obsessively every book that had crossed her path. The stern librarian never commented on her reading choices and Hermione never asked how the Potions book appeared.

Still, there were some things she wishes she could forget entirely, such as the other three Ceremonies. The Squib one was particularly sad affair since all the champions were children, no older than 13 years old. Hermione always felt sorry for them, even more than her fellow Muggleborn. Purebloods took great joy in killing them, coming up with new and exciting ways to do so. They were the first people to die. (Well, usually the first. She remembers fondly a little old lady who had unleashed her wild cats to her opponents. She had managed to survive almost the entire Tournament until she was killed attacked by Inferi.)

The Pureblood Ceremony was a different story, though. When the Half-blood, Muggleborn and Squib were selected, they usually reacted like they were going to their funeral. But Pureblood Selections was treated as a grant party.

The champions' names could barely be heard over the loud cheers. Everyone tried to hug the champions, to touch their arms, anything. She had recognized the blond man who tried to curse her. This time he wasn't cheering or cursing anyone. He was standing completely motionless. Hermione wondered what had caused this reaction when she noticed her new opponents. One of the younger champions born a remarkable resemblance to her attacker. She wanted to feel satisfaction for his distress but the only thing she could feel was pity.

The Half-Blood Ceremony was a mixed bag, as usual. Some reacted to their selection as a chance to achieve eternal glory, some as a death sentence. This year, all the champions looked confident which made sense, since they were the only one who stood a real chance against the Pureblood.

With the ceremonies out of the way, Hermione didn't have a clue about what was next. She woke up in the same room she was sleeping since her name come out from the Goblet. It wasn't much but it was definitely better than one she was sharing with the other Muggeborns. At least now she had the bed for herself.

The last days had left their stain because Hermione felt extremely tired, even though she hadn't done anything. She wanted nothing more than to stay in bed forever.

Shower, she though sleepily. She stood up with difficulty and walked to the bathroom. She was wearing the same clothes for two days straight and it showed. She missed her wand. If she had it with her she could scrousify and be done with them. Unfortunately, if they had discovered it, they would have skipped the Tournament and kill her without a second thought.

She undressed carefully, trying not to move her hurting limps much. There was a big mirror next to the showering stall. She examined her body like she was looking at it for the first time. There it was her old tattoo. She had been marked the very first day she arrived. A rose strangled by a green weed with fangs and a scowl. A symbol to remind her of her new position.

She showered quickly and dressed in a red robe she had found in a closet. She had just returned to her bedroom when the door opened and a large man entered.

"Good Morning!" He sounded like he was hit by a permanent cheer charm. Hermione, who couldn't handle so much cheeriness on her best days, just nodded.

"How are you feeling?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Please, come with me," he said and walked out of the room.

Startled by his sudden departure, it took a moment for Hermione to realize what happened. Haltingly, she followed him. The man waited her impatiently. "What are you waiting for?" he asked and grabbed her hand. "Hurry! The others are already here!"

Hermione couldn't believe that a man of his size could move so fast. Before she realized, they had reached their destination.

They entered one of the ugliest rooms she had ever seen. The rooms were painted a dull green color. She instantly felt dizzy. The sun was shining brightly from the windows located on the eastern wall. Hermione figured it was magic; she knew they were underground although she couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

At the center of the room, there was a wooden table where Dean and the other two Muggleborn Champions were seated. Dean was drumming his fingers against the table and the boy was whispering something to the girl's ear.

"Please, sit down," the large man said and gestured at the chairs. Hermione sit next to Dean. He smiled at her and she did the same tentatively.

"Now we are all here, I would like to introduce myself. My name is Osvalt Slughorn and I'll be your assistant until the Tournament begins. We have a lot to do so let's get started!" He looked at them expectantly. Hermione couldn't muster any real excitement, and from the guarded looks on everybody's faces, she guessed she wasn't the only one.

"Any questions?" Again, without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Firstly, we should find you wands." He waved his lazily and a small box appeared.

_Of course_, Hermione though bitterly. Muggleborns were forbidden from carrying wands. If you were caught, the penalty was death. The only time they were allowed to use magic was during the Tournament.

Slughorn pushed the box towards Dean. He looked at it like he was afraid it would explode.

"Are you going to open it? We don't have all day!"

Dean cleared his throat and opened it. Inside there were the most pathetic-looking wands Hermione had ever seen. Some of them didn't look like wands; more like drumsticks. Some of them were snapped in half and were only held together by a tiny thread of wood. The bigger one was covered in some kind of yellow goo. Hermione counted them quickly; There were eight wands. Four for them, four for the Squibs.

"Aren't they great?" Slughorn asked.

"Great is not the world I would use," Hermione said.

"They are special," Dean said. He reached his hand and grabbed the one closest to him. He examined carefully. "Is that bubblegum?" he asked Hermione.

She was surprised but decided to answer. "Let me see. No, it's just dirt."

"Pink dirt? Really?"

"It's special."

"Well, thank God. I was worried for a minute."

Slughorn looked like the salesman who tries to persuade you that twelve sickles for three rotten eggs is a bargain of a lifetime. "I'm sure they would be fine. Now, I know none of you have used a wand before – he looked at them. Hermione refused to squirm under his stare- so I'll show you. He made an elaborate move with his hand.

The demonstration was cut short when the young boy started to use his wand as a sword. His friend started to giggle, and soon after that they were engrossed in a sword fight. As Slughorn tried unsuccessfully to put an end to their game, Dean whispered in ear. "I need to talk to you."

"Talk then."

"Not here." He looked around suspiciously but Slughron didn't pay any attention to them. He continued. "Alone. It's important. I have already asked Colin and Martha about this, but I need your opinion."

"Who?"

"Colin and Martha? The children over there who pretend they are knights? These children you might kill soon? You should make an effort to know their names."

Hermione felt instantly ashamed. Dean looked a little guilty. When he spoke his tone was gentler.

"I'm sorry. This is not fair, I know"

"No, you are right. What do you want to talk about?"

Dean took a deep breath and asked: "When they call your name, did you see anything?"

Hermione stared at him. "Come to my room later. Do you know where it is?"

"I will find out." Dean smiled.

"_For the last time, stop poking me!"_

Slughorn finally had managed to stop the fight. He had lost his good mood, though. Hermione silently thanked the children – _Colin and Martha, Colin and Martha_ – for that.

He had showed them some basic spells, such as "Alohomora" and "Lumos". Dean had commented loudly: "There would be many doors in an open arena, I guess." Slughorn had ignored him. The lesson had ended soon after that, and they were free until the afternoon when they had to return for more practice.

They went for lunch. Hermione didn't feel particularly hungry but she knew it was crucial to keep her strength. So she forced herself to eat everything they put on her plate.

Now, she was inside her room and was waiting for Dean. Maybe he would know, Hermione though. She tried to recall the vents of the dreaded morning. Her name coming out of the goblet, the announcement of her name, the vision, Jane holding her hand…

Jane.

She had tried desperately to not think about Jane. She hadn't spoken to her since her selection. She only had seen her from afar, when the other champions had been selected. She looked paler than a ghost. Was she sleeping enough? Was she eating? Who took care of her now?

The door opened and Dean came in. He closed it carefully and stared at her.

"This place is like a maze."

"You could knock, you know."

"Oh, sure. So everyone would know that I'm here." He sat on the bed. Hermione followed his lead and did the same. "I don't think we do anything forbidden, but better safe than sorry." He looked around suspiciously. "Do you think they can hear us?"

"Don't worry." She took her new wand and cast a spell. "What?" she asked when he saw Dean's face. "We can practice by ourselves. I asked Slughron. No one can hear us now.

"How do you know that spell?" His tone now was accusing. Hermione could see hostility written all over his face.

"I heard someone using it," she said quickly.

"Really." Disbelief was evident on his face. "You must have a great memory."

"Speaking of," Hermione tried to change the subject, "can we talk about what we saw?"

"You think it was a memory."

"I don't know," she closed her eyes, defeated. "No, I know. It was too clear to be anything else. I'm sure, it was a memory."

"What did you see?" he asked gently.

"I saw a woman. She looked like me. Except she was older, happier. I think….I think she was my mum."

Dean squeezed her arm. Hermione opened her eyes and looked at him. The hostility she saw before was gone. He looked very much alike like the first time they had met, young, sad and afraid.

"I think I saw her, too. Well, not yours, mine," he joked. None of them laughed. "Same with Colin and Martha."

"What does that mean? Do we get our memories back?"

"No, I don't think so. They brought us here; they erase our past, right? They use some spell, potion, I don't know…"

"Obliviate," Hermione said automatically. "It's a spell."

"Did you hear that somewhere, too?" Dean asked. This time, he didn't sound angry. "I should stick close to you, pick anything useful. The only thing I learn was unlocking doors," he said wishfully. "Anyway. To recap : They found us. They bring us here. They obliviate (or however you said that) us. We don't remember anything from our past life. Then we hear our names and it's like….a trigger. We remember pieces. Do you saw anything else?"

"No."

"Me neither."

They sat in silence for a while. Hermione asked what she knew they were both thinking.

"Do you think they killed them?"

Dean swallowed. His voice was trembling. "Maybe they had just obliviated them, too." He didn't sound convincing.

After a while, Dean spoke again. "You know, you are really good at this. Magic." He made a gesture with his hands. "Who knows? Maybe this year, the winner would be a Muggleborn."

Hermione laughed but there was no real joy in her voice. "Do you really believe that?"

"Not really, I am just trying to cheer you up," Dean said guiltily.


	3. Chapter 3

When Slughorn announced they would soon have visitors, Hermione didn't know how to feel. Sure she wanted to see Jane but on the other hand she didn't want her sister to see her like that, trapped. The house they were kept may be a lot more luxurious and clean than the huts she was sharing with the other Muggleborns but at least there she was free, as free a Mublood could ever be.

Still, the relief she felt when she saw her overcame her dread. Jane was fine; a little thinner, a little paler, but essentially okay. She even smiled when she told her about Colin's and Martha's fight. Hermione wanted Jane to keep smiling so she started describing her wand. She had just told her how she managed to end up with the one covered in goo, when she saw Jane's expression.

"That's not funny." She wasn't smiling anymore. She grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "You understand that this…this is the only thing that will keep you alive. Goo and all."

She didn't want to upset her, not more than it was necessary, but she couldn't lie to her. "And you understand that I had literally no chance." She was harsh but Jane needed to hear the truth.

"Because of the wand?" She asked. There were tears in her eyes and Hermione couldn't help but notice how young she looked. She had arrived only a year ago.

_No. Because Voldermord would never allow a Mudblood to win. Because we are torn from our houses to serve them and be killed for their entertainment. Because we all live in borrowed time until we are replaced by fresher meat. Because you can be lucky to live for 10, 15 years but in the end the only thing waiting for you is an open grave._

"Yes. I may have a chance, then."

Jane left soon after that. She was paler than she was when she first came in but at least she wasn't crying. Hermione took solace in small things these days.

Slughorn led her to the same room they practiced the first day. Dean and the other two were already there and were casting spells or at least they were trying. Slughorn moved his wand and four pears appeared out of thin air. With another movement of his wand, he put them on the table.

"Today, kids, we will learn a very useful spell. We will make these pears dance!" he declared proudly.

Hermione looked at Dean who looked at Colin who looked at Martha who looked at her shoes.

Hot, burning, fury consumed her.

"CAN YOU ACTUALLY TEACH US SOMETHING USEFUL?"

"Have you lost your mind? Keep your voice down!" Slughorn said. He looked terrified. This was the first time Hermione saw him react with anything than cheer or annoyance and she felt strangely satisfied. At least now she knew there was a real person under the façade.

"Can you actually teach us something useful?" she whispered. She was so tired.

He stared at her. His face gave nothing, his expression perfectly blank. Only his eyes betrayed that something was different. After a few moments of silence, he answered: "No." And so low she couldn't be sure that she hadn't imagine it "I'm sorry."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean asked while they were eating.

"I'm going to die really soon and I just waste one hour of that little time I have trying to make two pears dance Tango, that's what's wrong with me."

"Jeez, when you put it that way, it does suck." He cleared his plate for the second time that day. "At least, they feed us."

"Have you noticed that we hadn't met anyone apart from Slughorn?"

"Do you think I am stupid? Of course I noticed."

"Slughorn was terrified when I yelled. So someone's watching."

"Or listening, at least."

"Well, no one is listening now. I cast the spell."

"You didn't say anything."

"I did it…silently."

"Fuck. You are good."

She couldn't help but smile. She was good, she had to admit. Not that it would help her in the long run but it felt good to be praised for something she had to hide all the time. She wasn't simply good, she was amazing. At nights, she felt the power inside her veins, tickling her skin, singing her name.

"Do you think they use the portraits to spy us?" Dean asked.

"Probably." Dean stared at the eastern wall where there was a portrait of an old lady. She winked at him and licked her lips. "Ew," he shuddered. "I don't think she is the spying type."

"Maybe no one listens. I mean, what exactly we can do? We are not a threat to them. We are nothing."

"You are something," Colin said suddenly. Martha nodded. "You are doing all these things none of us can do."

"Colin's right. You are drawing too much attention to yourself. You should be careful."

"What's the point? We are all going to die, anyway."

"You are a ray of sunshine, you know that?"

Slughorn informed them of the next day's schedule. "This is the last night you will spend here. Tomorrow, your friends will visit you for the last time and then you will meet your opponents."

"Can't wait," Dean whispered in her ear. "See you in five."

Hermione headed for her room. As far as she knew, she was free to go wherever she wanted but she preferred the false security the small room gave her. There was nothing to see elsewhere; every room she had seen was an exact replica of the "Practice Room." It was literally a maze, with no sign of exit.

"So, tomorrow is the big day. Are you excited?" Dean asked as soon as he entered her room.

"I'm dying," she answered drily. Dean chuckled. "Can't wait to meet the person that will kill me."

"Can we talk about anything else?"

"I'm sorry. Let's talk about the weather, instead. Very important topic."

Dean stared at her. He looked angry. She wondered how she managed to piss off every person she came across today. She didn't want to fight; she was already too many enemies and not enough friends.

"I'm sorry. I get it; you probably want to talk about something else."

"It's not that I don't like talking about death, doom and destruction. It just gets a little too repetitive."

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

"Tell me about your sister."

Hermione didn't expect that although it made perfect sense. It was a simple question, but somehow it felt wrong. Too personal. Jean was a part of herself. She wanted to protect her from everyone. She knew she can't and this brings her more hurt that anything else.

Dean looked at her expectantly.

"She is not really my sister, of course." She took a deep breath. Jane was not her sister, she knew that. She had prayed every day that she wasn't.

"I was here for five years when she appeared. You know how they are at first; disoriented. Afraid. A little angry. I saw her and I don't know….she was different."

"She looks like you. A lot."

"I am not anything special."

"You know what I mean. You have thought it, too. She could be your sister. "

"Or she could be not."

"You are a genius, you have already figure out, haven't you? What that means if it's true."

"Yes. My parents are alive and they are pretty much breeding stock."

Jane didn't visit her the next day. Instead a woman with black hair drawn into a tight bun came and informed her she couldn't make it. Hermione yelled and demanded to see her. She was ready to attack the other woman with her bare hands when two creatures with black cloaks appeared. She felt sick and she knew that Jane was dead.

The feeling passed quickly. The older woman had cast a spell Hermione didn't know. She felt the warmth seeping through her. "I can handle it myself," she said and her voice was icy. The dark creatures vanished. The woman turned her eyes to Hermione who was lying on the floor. "Get up. Now." Hermione tried but her feet had completely paralyzed.

"Imperio."

She stood up immediately. She felt lighter than the air. She felt nothing for a perfect minute and then everything hurt again and Jane was still dead.

"Don't do that again." She sounded disgusted. She was holding something in her hand. Hermione recognized her wand, the one covered with goo. The woman grabbed her hand and opened her palm. "Use this. If you can."

She was ready to use every curse she knew and some she didn't when she realized something was different. She looked at her hand. The wand looked exactly like the one she picked from Slughorn's box but it wasn't the same. She could feel its power, its magic. For the first time the blood inside her calmed.

"Of course, you can't," her voice had the same disgusted tone but her eyes told a different story. Hermione understood.

After the woman left, Hermione examined her new wand carefully. On the bottom of the handle, so faded you could barely see, there were four letters: OoTP.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hermione? What happened?"

She was sitting at the bed, her eyes closed. She could barely hear Dean. She couldn't move even if she wanted. But the truth was that she didn't really want to. Now that Jean was dead, nothing really mattered. She didn't want to fight. She refused to be a spectacle for them. Let them kill her now and be done with it.

But something burned inside her, more than the loss of Jane. It wasn't a need for revenge because revenge needed strength, needed clarity. Passion. Hermione didn't have anything of these. All she had was a need to do for once in her life something in her own terms.

The wand was heavy in her hand. She didn't remember pulling out of her pocket but there it was. She put it against her head. And for a perfect moment, everything clicked. And just as suddenly, it passed. Hermione let the wand drop.

"Did you….did you almost do what I think?" Dean was beside her immediately. He caught her shoulders and shook her violently. "Are you crazy?"

"Stop shaking me."

Dean let her quickly. He seemed to not know what to do with his hands and settled to holding her hand. Hermione had to admit that the touch was nice, soothing. For the first time after the meeting with the strange woman, she didn't feel so cold.

"Not my best moment, okay." Dean sounded apologetic. "But still, what the hell happened?"

After casting the silencing spell, Hermione told him. Dean let her hand and start pacing, he opened his mouth but no words came out. After taking a few breaths, he managed to speak again clearly.

"That's great news. Someone is helping you!"

Hermione wanted to slap him. Hard. The warmth she felt earlier had disappeared. Suddenly, she wanted to be everyone but here.

"Jean died." Her voice shook with barely restrained anger. " Sorry for not cheering."

Dean stopped pacing and gaped at her. "How the fuck do you know that? For someone so clever, you can be such an idiot." He caught her shoulders and shook her again, this time a lot gentler. "Did anyone tell you that?"

"I didn't expect a declaration or something. It was obvious." Hermione said but even in her own ears, she didn't sound convinced anymore. Did she really misunderstand the situation so bad? Did she let her own fears get the better of her?

" I tell you; it's the whole gloomy thing you have. Someone gives me an awesome wand? Oh noes, she killed my sister. How did you even come up with that?"

"I don't know." She felt silly. What Dean was saying sounded logical. But she still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible had happened to Jane. "My gut tells me something really bad is going on."

"Your gut is stupid and ungrateful."

Hermione ignored his childish response. Sometimes, Dean could be a little immature. Just in time, the door opened and Slughorn showed up.

"What are you doing here?" he asked pointedly.

"We were just talking," Dean answered quickly. A little too quickly it seemed, because he looked a lot more suspicious. He looked around like he was searching for something. Luckily, he didn't seem to find anything discriminatory. "There was no sound," he said, pointing an accusing finger at Hermione.

She honestly didn't trust herself to not curse him and let Dean answer again: "We were…um whispering?"

Slughorn was ready to speak again when he changed his mind. He seemed like a man who had come to a sudden revelation. He cleared his throat repeatedly and avoided eye contact with her. "Oh. Em..yes. I was young once, too."

Hermione decided to step up since Dean was looking confused. "Yes. Thank you."

"So are we ready yet?" Slughorn changed subject as quick as possible. "Our carriage is waiting."

"Carriage?" Dean asked. He was looking like he was still trying to figure out what happened.

"But of course! How else are we supposed to get to our destination? Follow me. Oh, and Hermione, don't forget your wand.

The wand was still at the floor where had she dropped it. Dean picked it up and gave it to her. She took it silently. It was still heavy but this time she didn't mind it. It wasn't a burden but something entirely different. Hope.

* * *

"You have to admit, this is kind of exciting."

Hermione opened her eyes and closed them again immediately. After the days she spent underground, it was hard to adjust to the natural light coming from the windows. Any "real" wizard or witch would swear up and down that there is no difference between real and magically produced light, but she knew better. Judging from the Martha's and Colin's pained expressions; she wasn't the only one who noticed the difference.

Dean seemed unaffected but as Hermione had come to realize these last days, not much could spoil Dean's good mood. He was one of these people who took everything bad in his stride, never losing his smile. Depending on her mood, it was a trait she find it either endearing or very, very annoying.

"I am the only one who is excited?" Dean asked. "Colin? Martha?"

"Leave me alone." Colin hid his face under a green pillow."

"It's … fun."

"Martha, please don't encourage him."

"Finally, I though the evil stepmother stole your voice. Or is it was a mermaid? Something about pumpkins…" Dean said, confusion evident in his face.

Hermione decided to open her eyes and faced him, just to make him shut up. _Definitely annoying._ "What are you even talking about?"

"See, we are flying by a magical carriage. Except there are no horses. I mean, there are horses, but they are like their ugly brothers . And I know the pumpkins are fitting somewhere there too although I am still working on where exactly…"

"These are thestrals," Hermione decided to grasp at anything that made even a little sense in Dean's story. "Did you understand anything else?"

Colin didn't bother to raise his head. "Please, leave me alone." Martha shook her head.

Dean shrugged. He didn't sound so happy anymore. "It's a story…. I think someone told me. I don't really remember. I don't know but I feel like I should remember it, somehow." He looked out of the window, trying to focus. Determination made his features look sharper. Moments later, he seemed to give up and just stared at the clouds below them. No one talked for a while, every one of them lost in their own thoughts.

Hermione, who just five minutes ago, would give anything for a little piece and quiet, felt uneasy. "I am sorry," she said without knowing why.

"Eh, it's just a stupid story." Dean smiled again and Hermione felt a little better. Even Colin had decided to show his face again. This time the silence was less tense, easier to bear.

"You know, I have to admit, flying is pretty cool."

"And?" Dean asked.

"Yes. Exciting."

Dean clapped his hands, Martha rolled her eyes and Colin threw her the green pillow. "Traitor," he whispered loud enough to hear. Hermione caught it in the air, put it under her head and closed her eyes, determined to find some rest before she had to face the world again. She would deny it later but until sleep overcame her, she was smiling.

* * *

The abrupt stop and lack of movement wake Hermione up. The other three roused from their sleep, too. Martha looked around wildly. For the first time since the whole ordeal had started, she looked truly frightened. Even Dean was looking sober. _It starts to sink in. _Hermione thought.

"Where are we?" Colin asked.

They looked out of the window. The only thing they could make out was what it looked like a gigantic forest. Hermione had never seen something like that; there were trees everywhere she turned her head.

"Do you hear anything?"

Suddenly, Hermione realized since their journey had begun, she hadn't heard any sound from outside the carriage. "They must have used a spell." She looked knowingly at Dean.

"Bastards," Dean said without a hint of his usual humor.

The doors suddenly opened. Hermione felt relieved. She expected something terrible. She was so out of her waters that Slughorn's face was almost a relief.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hogwarts."

Even under the circumstances, she couldn't help but feeling a little awe. She had heard about Hogwarts, or more specifically she had read about it. It was a relic of an older time, where magic was something to be kept hidden, to be ashamed. Wizards and Witches speak with revulsion about Hogwarts or didn't speak at all.

But Hermione didn't feel repulsed. She didn't understand why but the castle in front of her didn't scare her. There was something oddly comforting about it. She sensed a power greater than she ever met before.

"I don't understand why they don't tear it down," Slughorn said, mostly to himself. "All right, then, let's get going, we have many things to do."

He walked towards the huge wooden door and knocked. Almost immediately, the door opened and a man, dressed in a black cloak, appeared.

"Severus," Slughorn bowed slightly his head.

The man ignored his greeting. "Finally. He is waiting for you."

Slughorn seemed suddenly extremely nervous. "Am I late?" He pulled out a napkin and swept his brow. "Is he angry?"

"I suggest you to stop wasting time."

Slughron turned and faced Hermione and the others. "Move." Gone was the almost kind man she had known these last days. His voice was cruel and demanding, his expression sneering. She was consumed by fear; even if she wanted, she couldn't move.

She felt a hand at the small of her back. "Come on," Dean said. "Let's do this."

"Yes, let's do this." Martha agreed.

"What are we waiting for?" Colin said.

Severus, as Slughorn had addressed him, looked at them intently. Hermione could swear his stare linger on her a little more than she was comfortable.

Slughorn lead them deep into the castle. Although everything was clean and in order, the place seemed abandoned. She could hear whispers everywhere; she realized there were coming from the portraits.

"Who would die first?"

"The little girl."

"The tall one."

"Ignore them," Dean said, his hand still gently guiding her. Severus was following them closely. She could still feel his eyes.

"Ok. We are here." They had stopped in front of two big double doors. Slughorn took a deep breath, composed himself and opened them.

Hermione, used to the little huts she and the other Mudbloods had grown up, was taken aback by the sheer enormity of the hall. There were four long tables, where the other champions were already seated. It was kind of silly, really, four tables for so few people. _But I guess that's the whole point. Separated so everyone knows their place._

She noticed some of them were flocking together. The Squibs were sitting next to each other contrary to Purebloods and their distance between them. She remembered the blond boy from the pureblood ceremony; he was sitting far away from anyone.

The forth table was empty. Slughorn pushed them towards, Hermione reluctantly took her seat between Dean and Martha. He then moved so quickly he almost lost his balance.

"My Lord."

In front of the four tables, there was a throne-like chair where a man was seated. Hermione knew who he was but had never clearly seen him since he preferred to keep himself scarce among Mudbloods. The sight surprised her.

He was a beautiful man. Hermione felt sick to her stomach for even thinking about it but it was true. His jet back hair and dark eyes were a great contrast to his pale skin. The illusion stood until someone actually looked at his eyes and saw they were cold and cruel, devoid of every sign of humanity.

Slughorn fell on his knees and kissed Voldemort's robes. "My Lord." He repeated.

"Enough."

Slughorn stood up but kept his head down. Voldermort studied him. His face didn't betray any sign of emotion. Hermione wondered if he even had the ability.

"You were late."

Slughorn trembled but his voice was steady when he spoke. "I am sorry, my Lord. It's mudbloods' fault. They had kept me."

"Is it?" Voldemort stared at their table.

Hermione's disgust at Slughorn's "betrayal" was quickly replaced by an almost soul crushing fear. She had never felt something like that in her whole life. She was used to sneers and abuse but the hatred she could see in Voldemort's eyes was something she had never experienced. Beside her, she felt Martha's and Dean's hands squeezing hers.

"Is it?" Voldemort repeated. He clearly expected an answer. Hermione looked at Slughorn, his eyes were pleading.

She bowed her head. "Yes, my lord."

"No." Everyone looked astonished. Slughorn was trembling even harder. "See, I don't expect from Mudbloods to be punctual as I don't expect from a cockroach to list the 12 uses of dragon blood. Due to their limited brains, they simply aren't capable of such things. But you, Slughorn I expected better."

"My Lord, please…."

"I am sorry," He didn't sound sorry at all. "Avada Kedavra."

The lifeless body of Slughorn fell on the ground. Everyone hold their breaths.

"Severus, please get rid of this mess." He stood up from his seat and raised his hands.

'Now, everyone. Welcome to Hogwarts."


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione couldn't understand where this feeling of loss came from; quite frankly, she didn't like the man. He was a coward. He was content to lead her and her friends to sure death. She would probably kill him herself if that meant her own freedom, a thought she tried _not to contemplate a lot. But still, the sight of the Slughorn's body troubled her more than she was willing to admit and she felt the need to mourn him; not the sad man she had met but the man who, in some other life, could have been._

_Snape appeared and with a flick of his wand, vanished the body. Hermione wondered briefly where it had gone and if he had any family or friends who would ask for it. Her thoughts were cut short when his killer, __Voldemort, __spoke again._

"And let that be a lesson to everyone else. The moment you forget your responsibility to these _creatures," _he gestured vaguely at their table,"the moment where you let them get you to their own level, is the moment where you fail your mission and me."

_Where is he talking to?_

Then, as Voldemort read her mind (a scary thought) he raised his wand. A pair of crystal spheres appeared out of thin air. They moved silently above their heads, leaving a bright, white glow behind them. Everyone stared at them. Suddenly, Hermione's eyes stared to burn. For a moment, she lost the ability to see and judging from the shocked grasps she wasn't the only one. When her vision cleared again, the spheres were gone; at their places was some kind of portal. It was only an inch or two long but it was growing quickly. In no time at all, the portal was as big as the hall. It floated above them like a cloud and Hermione thought crazily what would happen if she just jumped.

Such thing was impossible, she discovered soon enough. Through the portal, she could see a big crowd, not different from the one who watched her selection. Hermione was shocked. They never broadcast anything but the tournament itself. Judging from the surprise evident in their faces, this was not a usual occurrence.

Voldemort spoke again.

"I am sure you are all wondering why you are watching this. Most importantly, you are wondering _why I am here._ It's not usual for me to mingle with mudbloods and squibs. I assure you this is not something I want to make a habit out of it." He made a disgusted face like he smelt something bad. "But this is a special occasion."

"Today, it's the 60th anniversary of the defeat of these foul creatures that were known as _muggles." _A shiver passed through the crowd. "Many of you among us remember their cruelty. Thousands years ago, they hunted us down. They burned us at their stakes. They killed us, tortured us and destroyed our homes. They made go into hiding like wounded animals, just because we are different. _Better_ than them. For many years, we couldn't show our true selves, we had to be pretend just to survive."

They were nodding their heads in agreement. Hermione could see that the Pureblood table has become more agitated. They were captured by Voldemort's speech.

"You could understand, I could not bear the injustice. Sixty years ago, I and a group of brave women and men fought for our right to be free. We revealed ourselves. We suggested a treaty, a chance for everyone to live in harmony and peace."

"Did they feel chagrined for what they have done to us? Of course not. Instead, for once again, they chose to hunt, torture and kill us. But this time, we fought back."

Loud cheers. "It wasn't an easy battle. Although wizards and witches were superior, the muggles still outnumbered us. And they fought dirty. Many good people died, a lot of them I considered friends." Voldemort lower his face, a forlorn look in his face.

He reminded Hermione of a parrot; someone who imitates but doesn't truly understand the meaning behind the action. She doubted if he even had a friend in his whole long life.

"At the end, it didn't matter. We were stronger and we were right. We won."

The cheers grew louder. "Few people, who have suffered as much as we have, would have shown mercy. But we were not monsters. We weren't like them. We chose not to kill them. Instead, we give them a place to live and prosper. And the only thing we asked, as a compensation for our losses, was their sons and daughters, as they have taken ours." He stared at Hermione.

Dread spread through her whole body. She could hear sounds from the other tables and the people from the portal but she couldn't understand what they were saying. Next to her, Dean was shaking. She squeezed his hand and the shaking seemed to get better. The murmurs were getting louder and louder.

"Silence!"

Everyone stopped talking at once.

"Why I am telling you all this? The older already knew and the younger suspected. Because it seems that it's never enough for these creatures. They always manage to spread their evil. Even when they are away, they hurt us. This time for the inside."

"With great sadness, I have to announce they are traitors among us. Wizards and witches who worked with them. People who want to destroy our community. People who don't respect our the sacrifices. Slughorn was one of them."

"As you understand, this behavior is not tolerated. I encourage anyone with information to come forward. We need to eliminate the threat that will destroy our society."

One by one, the people started to clap.

"Thank you for your support. "

Voldemort raised his wand again and the portal closed. The champions (especially the pureblood) looked confused; should they start clapping too? Hermione knew there was no way she could live with herself if she participated in this farce.

Luckily, that wasn't necessary. Voldemort was already walking towards the doors; he looked like he didn't want to spend another minute in the hall.

"Severus, deal with them." And with that, he was gone.

Two creatures with black cloaks appeared at the doors. Hermione remembered them from the day the woman had given her the wand (was it really yesterday? It felt so long ago) Severus – _Snape - _ addressed them ."Escort the squibs and mudbloods to the dormitories." Hermione tried to stand up but it was impossible. She couldn't feel her legs. Numbness was spreading through her whole body. She remembered her sister again. With the help of Dean and the others, she managed to walk. For a while at least. She had only taken three steps when she collapsed.

When she woke up again, she found herself lying on a strange bed. Three identical beds were next to hers. The room had definitely seen better days. The walls looked ready to collapse and red sheets looked more like rags. Dean, Martha and Colin were above her, looking concerned. Well, Martha and Colin looked concerned, Dean looked mostly impatient.

"Ugh, finally. I though you will never wake up."

"I am touched by your concern." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and opened them again. "What happened?"

"You mean after you fainted?"

"Obviously."

Dean was ready to say something when Martha cut him. "The dementors were ready to grab you, when Snape pull out his wand and and cast a spell. It looked like an animal. It stood in front of you; they stepped aside. He said "she is no use to us dead. Look after the others." Afterwards, he said to follow him. And that's pretty much."

"He sounds lovely; remind me to send him a thank you note." She tried to stand up but she still felt weak. After a few tries, she gave up. "And ew, did he touch me?"

Colin laughed. "He used a floating spell."

"You looked pretty ridiculous."

"Thank you, Dean, I appreciate your kind words."

Colin spoke quickly. "What are hell they were trying to do?"

"They wanted to suck your soul," Martha said.

"No way!"

"That's ridiculous!"

"You are just trying to scare us!"

Martha looked terribly sad, far sadder than a girl her age should have ever looked. "No, it's true. They pull out their cloak and kiss you and then they stole your soul. They have done it to my broth…Someone I knew." She stopped talking suddenly and looked away.

No one talked for a while. Martha tried discreetly to wipe her tears while everyone else pretended they hadn't notice.

"Do you believe anything he said?" Colin was the first to break the silence.

"That he was all "let's all be friends and braids each other's hair" and the Muggles refused? No. Anything else? Maybe."

"Do you think they are people who wanted to help us?"

"Who knows?" Dean said casually, but when Colin looked away, he looked at her and raised his eyebrow. Hermione ignored him and became extra fascinated with the poster on the wall.

Martha, who haven't talked for quite a while, said timidly: "If what he said it's true, about the Muggles….that means…our families…" She didn't continue.

No one wanted to open that particular can of worms, especially Hermione. "I am hungry." It wasn't a lie, she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten anything.

"The bastards are eating downstairs. I guess we aren't good enough."

"Big surprise."

Colin clapped his hands. "Wait here." He was gone before they understand what exactly happened. They didn't have to wait for long. When he came back, he was holding a wooden basket.

There was enough food inside to feed an army. Hermione hadn't seen so many dishes, not even the days she spend in the strange labyrinth place. Someone was really looking for them.

"Where did you find that, Colin?" Dean asked, amazed.

"Downstairs, next to the fireplace."

No one wanted to look a horse in the mouth, so they sat down and starting to eat. Dean informed her that tomorrow the second stage of their training will begin so it was the best to be as strong as they can be. Hermione was eating a strange yellow soup, which besides its questionable color; it tasted amazingly, when Dean pulled out a bottle.

"Butterbeer!"

"Buterbeer!"

"Buterbeer?" Hermione asked.

They all looked shocked at her ignorance. "You have never drink butterbeer?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Shoot me."

Dean opened a bottle and put it in her hands. "Come on, drink." He seemed to change his mind. "No, wait. Let's make a toast first."

"To victory!"

"To survival!"

"To Butterbeer!"

Martha, very quietly, said: "To Slughorn."

They all nodded and raised their glasses for the man who could have been.

* * *

"Pureblood last," Snape said, with the tone someone uses when they announce that the water is wet. (Although there are spells you could change that.)

They were outside of the castle. Besides older than time, Hogwarts was really huge. It even has a lake. Although for the life of her, Hermione really couldn't figure why they were all wearing bathing suits in the middle of the winter, ready to jump in.

"New and exciting ways to kill us," Dean had whispered to her and she couldn't really disagree.

"The Blood Tournament is not only the place where your magic is tested. It's the place to show your inner strength."

"What's inner strength had to do with cold, icy water?" Colin asked. Except, since his teeth was chattering so much , it came out more "aaaugh."

"Squibs first."

Hermione looked at the four girls. They all have the same brown eyes. Their similarities didn't stop there. The same long nose. The same thin lips. She quickly realize they were sisters. The younger looked barely eleven and the older couldn't be older than sixteen. The other two were twins.

Squibs were quite uncommon but four siblings with no trace of magical blood were crazy. And twins? And they were all picked the same year?

"We volunteered." The oldest startled her. "Irene," she pointed at the youngest, "was picked and we said what the hell, if she goes, we go, too." She smiled.

Hermione smiled and couldn't help admire her. It was different for her, no matter how her slim her chances were, she still had her magic. Squibs were usually the first to go.

"No talking!"

"Oh don't do that." She was still smiling that but it was different. Colder. "Don't think because we are squibs we are an easy target. Touch one hair of their heads and I will rip your throat with my bare hands."

"I didn't mean…"Hermione stammered.

"My name's Sofia, by the way. The twins are Agapi and Elpida," she winked at her. Snape gave the order and they all jumped into the cold water.

"What was that?" Dean asked.

"Making new friends."

"I knew you had it in you!" Dean patted her back.

"No touching!" Snape barked.

* * *

Apparently, wizards have a thing about green mazes. That's the only thing she could thought when Snape show them the labyrinth.

"Your goal is to reach first the portkey. If you don't know what a portkey is, I am not going to explain it to you."

"You can use your wands. There are traps inside the maze, but they are not lethal," his eyes stopped at Hermione. "Unfortunately." He smirked. Hermione wondered if death was an acceptable price for the satisfaction of punching him between his eyes. Probably not.

"Pureblood first."

Hermione was running as fast as she could. She couldn't breathe; her lungs were ready to burst from the pressure. Her whole body was slick from sweat and her knees were ready to abandon her for the second time in two days. The only thing that kept her from collapsing was pure adrenaline.

She thought she was afraid before; but this fear was completely different. She realized that was first taste of what she was going to feel in the arena.

Her legs gave out. With horror, Hermione realized that the vines which she though till this moment harmless were alive. They were wrapping around her arms and legs. She tried to reach her wand and cast a spell, a curse or if anything else failed, at least stab the damn thing but it was too late. She couldn't move her arms.

A creature which had way too many eyes appeared. It looked like a gigantic fly had mated with a snake. He crawling towards her and his millions eyes never left her from his sight.

_I am going to die_. Maybe it was better here, alone, in her own terms.

She remembered Snape's voice. _The traps are not lethal_. The traps are not lethal.

_You are trusting Snape?_

_What other choice do I have?_

It was right above her now. It was looking at her. Hermione took a deep breath and stared back.

She was losing her mind because she could swear it was fucking smirking at her. He lowered his head like he was taking a bow, like some kind of acrobat after an incredibly risky performance. She felt the vines starting to get loose around. Instinctively, she went for her wand.

The creature made a tsk sound (_I am really going crazy) _and turned its back. It was going the same way it had come from when it was hit by a spell. Hermione looked at her wand. Did she do without realizing? Was the wand so powerful it would sense when she was in danger?

The giant creature turned slowly and stared at something behind her. And Hermione realized she wasn't the one who was in danger.

It wasn't crawling anymore; instead, it was running. Fast. Hermione could see spikes, sharp enough to cut through human flesh. It was ready to strike. Hermione raised her wand and cast the first spell that came to her mind.

"Diffindo!"

The creature made an inhumane voice. One of its eyes was severed and had fallen on the ground. Hermione tried to not look at it; it made her nauseous. The man or boy (he didn't look older than her and Dean after all) was quick on the uptake and repeated the spell. One by one, all of his eyes were destroyed and with a sudden bang the creature collapsed.

The boy was definitely a pureblood, Hermione was sure of that. Although he had made the situation worse with his actions, he had tried to help her. Was his intention to provoke the creature into attacking her? She couldn't be sure. And he heard her using magic, magic she had no reason to know.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

Would he curse her if she said he was fine?

"Yes."

He didn't look like he was going to curse her. "You are lucky I was coming this way."

_What?_

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to thank me," he reassured her.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal, really."

She wanted to roll her eyes but she resisted. "No, I mean, why than….I mean I saved y…I was doing ok on my own." Better to hold her tongue.

"That thing was ready to eat you alive."

"It was going away."

"And it would have come back."

And it was like fight a losing battle; there was no chance he was going to admit she had saved him. She wondered if it was because she was a mudblood or a girl. Probably both. Still, she couldn't let it completely go.

"Snap…Sir told us the traps were not lethal."

"And you were trusting Snape?'

He passed a nervous hand through his red hair. "My name's Ron Weasley, by the way. Does your kind have names? I was never really around them."

Hermione didn't want to admit it but the comment stringed her a lot more than she was expecting. She gritted her teeth. "Hermione. We don't have last names."

"Weird."

_Fuck you._

"We should take different ways," Hermione gestured at the path. She couldn't see the time where she would be away from him.

"Sure." He didn't move from his spot. For some reason, he seemed to be extremely interested in her face.

A loud scream stopped in their tracks. Someone was in pain and needed help. Hermione couldn't let them alone. What if it was Dean or Colin or Martha? She ran towards the noise. Ron followed her, loudly cursing.

The sight made her blood go cold.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione had seen many strange things since the day she woke up in this strange world, with no recollection of her previous life. Horses that could fly, plants with teeth and she could swear she once saw a dragon. Being Mudblood, it meant she was forced to work jobs that they were beneath purebloods, with only reward something to eat and a wooden hut to sleep. She had done everything; from cleaning houses to digging in mud to find God knows what. It was a tiring and unfulfilled life. All these things changed when she took her first step into the public library.

Her tasks were boring but Hermione was never been happier. All of these books and the knowledge they carried was like a balsam for her soul. She had devoured every book she could put her hands on (in secret, of course.) So it wasn't that she was completely unaware of how the magical world works. It's just that apparently, no writer thought it would worth mentioning the existence of twelve feet tall creatures with legs twice as long as their arms.

"_Trolls? Are they completely mental?" _She heard Ron screaming.

Well, at least now she knew the name of the huge, gray thing that was rapidly advancing on them. Surprisingly, it didn't really reassure her that much.

The troll was holding a huge wooden club, which was dragging along the floor. It stood up in front of them, confused. Its little eyes were quickly moving between her and Ron, seemingly confused of whom to smash first. They settled on her. Slowly, the troll lifted its club.

Suddenly, it stopped. Something or someone (_definitely someone, _Hermione thought) had jumped on its back and had fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. Somehow, the man had managed to stick his wand up the troll's nose.

_What an idiot._

The troll was hallowing in pain and now was attacking blindly, swinging the club all over the place. Hermione was petrified; she didn't know what to do. Using magic once in front of the pureblood was one thing, but again so soon, it would look really suspicious. Ron may looked stupid and arrogant but even him couldn't ignore her continuous use of magic, completely different from all of the other Mudbloods.

The troll continued to twist its club, any minute now it would manage to hit the man on his back. _So what?_ Hermione thought bitterly. _Less competition._ As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she didn't really believe it. Sighing, she raised her wand.

The spell hadn't left her lips when she saw Ron doing the same. He seemed to hesitate for only a second. Then, he casted a silent spell. The club left the troll's hand and started to rise slowly up into the air. It floated above its head. The troll tried to grab it but it was already too late; it had dropped onto its head. It made a terrible sound and collapsed just a few steps from where Hermione was standing.

"That was close," Ron exclaimed. "You really have a knack of attracting trouble."

_You were standing both of these times next to me, you dumbass. _"Thank you so much!" she smiled sweetly at him. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Ron seemed pleased, although he was looking a little skeptical, like he was trying to decide if she was mocking him or not. Hesitantly, he returned the smile. Hermione wished for the second time he would just leave her alone; she didn't like the way his smile made her feel.

"Sorry to interrupt, but someone give me a hand? Please?"

Ron jumped like he was startled, and helped the boy to stand on his feet. "Thanks," he said. He had black hair and beautiful, green eyes that looked like they couldn't see much. Hermione noticed a pair of glasses on the ground. She gave them back.

"I think these are yours."

"Oh, thanks!" He wore them quickly. An expression of utter despair crossed his face. "They are broken," he said miserably.

Ron patted his back. "Don't worry; someone will fix them for you. Maybe Snape."

"Yeah. Maybe Snape." He sounded even more miserable.

"You look familiar. Are you that Potter kid? Your dad's an auror. I think he works with my dad." Ron asked. He sounded his usual cheery self, but there was something different Hermione couldn't pinpoint exactly.

He looked at Ron or where he guessed Ron was. The glasses hadn't helped his sight at all. "Yes, I think he does. Name's Harry." A mutual understanding passed between and Hermione for once again she felt like an outsider.

"I am Ron Weasley and this is em…Herm…Herman…Herminiony…"

"Hermione."

"That's it."

Hermione decided then that facing trolls and giant flies with too many eyes were better alternative than spending another minute with Ron. She turned her head was ready to tell him (way more diplomatically, of course,) when suddenly Ron fell on the ground.

The blond boy who remembered from the Pureblood Selection had punched him in his face. He continued to pound his face with his fists and he would have probably broke his nose (at least) if Harry hadn't interfered. He broke them up quickly but not before taking a few stray hits.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Malfoy?" Ron rubbed his nose. He looked in pain and Hermione felt the sudden urge to help him.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you, Weasley!" Harry had managed to hold him back but he was still trying to get away from him and continue his work. Harry tightened his arms around him. Finally, he seemed to give up. Harry continued to hold him like he was afraid he will attack again.

"I could have been killed! Why did you just leave me with that ….thing?"

Ron was still on the ground and made no move to stand up, like he didn't trust his feet to hold him up. "I knew you could handle it yourself."

Malfoy took a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself. It didn't work. Somehow, now that he was screaming, he looked even angrier. "Do you have any idea what I am going to do you when we are out of here?"

"I'm sure your father will know about this," Ron answered sweetly.

Malfoy managed to break away from Harry and advanced on Ron, who was still on the ground. This time, he was holding his wand.

Hermione had enough. "Stop right now!"

Malfoy stopped what he was doing and looked at her. He seemed like he hadn't notice her until now. An expression of utter disgust crossed his face. Weird enough, Hermione felt relieved. She had dealt with these kinds of behavior her whole life; she knew what she was facing. It was familiar not strange and confusing like…like other things.

"Who are you talking like that, you filthy little Mudblood?"

Harry was trying some kind of spell on his glassed, trying to fix them. He looked utterly absorbed by his task. Ron stood up quickly. He looked like he was ready to say or do something and Hermione wished fervently he would do anything.

Ron shrugged his shoulder and fixed his cloak that was starting get dirty from all the time he spent today on the ground.

Hermione lowered her eyes and looked down. "I am really sorry; I was just thinking hitting each other would solve nothing."

Malfoy snorted. "You are not here to think." He turned an accusing eye first on Harry and then his eyes settled on Ron. "_Why_ is she here? _With you?"_

"She followed us," Harry said quickly. He hadn't made any progress with his glasses; they were looking as bad as she first picked them from the ground.

Malfoy didn't look very convinced but he let it go. He looked at her. "You should run," he said while raising his wand. "Because I don't feel like following the rules today." He gave her a wolfish grin.

Hermione didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

Time passed differently in the maze than outside. Hermione felt like she had spent days inside the labyrinth but judging from the position of the sun, it couldn't have been more than an hour. It was probably another type of magic, something to disorient them even more. She was feeling already pretty disoriented, thank you very much.

"_Can someone please hurry up and reach the portkey already? I am a little hungry."_

Hermione was startled. For a moment, she thought she was just thinking loudly because, well, she was little hungry and she couldn't see the time when she would get out of this creepy maze. She realized quickly though, that her voice had never sounded so eerie.

"Hello. I am Luna Lovegood," a blonde girl said. "You are Hermione."

"I am," Hermione said and felt a little silly. But seriously, how do you respond to something like that?

"You look different from what I expected," the girl continued. "I have never been so close to a Muggleborn before." She moved suddenly and with a flick of her wand (instinctively Hermione went for hers) she conjured a chair and sat down, curiosity evident in her face.

Hermione felt how she imaged an insect was feeling under a microscope. "We have a girl working in our house once, but I wasn't allowed to talk to her. And one day, she was gone."

Hermione involuntarily shivered both from what Luna was saying and the way she was staring.

"I should go," Hermione felt even sillier by the minute. Slowly, she put some distance between her and Luna. She made no move to stand up, seemingly happy to sit and stare at her.

"Oh, sure. Have a nice day!" she waved her happily, like they weren't both in the middle of a huge maze but instead they had just finished a nice walk. Before she turned right, she could swear she heard her shouting "Look out for the nargles!"

She was never happier when she ran into Dean. Dean didn't look very happy though. He looked scared like he had just seen a ghost. "Did you see her?" he asked, his voice lowering slightly on the last word. The leaves were starting to thin in one place, like they were trying to show them the right way. Hermione's only wish that it wasn't a trap.

"Who?"

"Luna."

"Yes. I think she is a half-blood."

Dean stopped moving and looked at her. "You mean she is a champion? I thought she was part of the maze!"

Hermione, despite her best efforts to hold it together, laughed. He didn't; he was looking even more scared. "I am pretty sure she is a human," Hermione tried to reassure him.

"All I know that she is fucking creepy. She kept asking question about me, if I have a second head which only grows at night or if I spoke in tongues." He shuddered. "She wouldn't leave me alone; I had to run to get away from her."

"Poor baby. I had to face a troll."

"I'll take a troll from Luna any day."

_Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby._

They stopped dead at their tracks. The mocking voice continued to echo all around them. Hermione grabbed her wand, ready to fight. Dean followed her lead.

"It's just an echo." Dean sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "It can't hurt us."

"I am not so sure."

Suddenly, she felt the ground giving away beside her feet. For the second time this day, she fell flat on her face. Disoriented, she looked around and quickly discovered they had fallen on a hole. Four impossibly high walls had risen around them, blocking the sun and their only exit.

"We are trapped," Dean said.

"Hold on," said Hermione and tried to climb up. It was impossible; every time she tried to touch the walls, they were slipping away from her fingers, like water. She even tried to climb on Dean's back to get a better grasp but still the walls refused to cooperate.

"Maybe there is a crack here," Dean said and started to investigate the walls. After a few moments, he gave up and sat down. For a while no one talked, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Make some magic."

"I don't know what…"

"Make a rope…"

"I don't know how..."

"Try something!" He sounded panicked. "I don't like it here, it smells bad."

She suddenly noticed the smell, too. Dean was wrong thought, it's didn't smell bad; it smelt horribly. It smelt like rotten meat and bad eggs and something worse Hermione couldn't identify. Her throat hurt and she felt like throwing up.

Dean stood up quicker that the light. "The earth is moving." Hermione thought that Dean sounded scared before; she was mistaken. His fear overwhelmed. Blindly, she tried to cast some spell, something that would help get out of this place but her mind was blank.

_Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby. Poor baby._ _Poor baby. Poor baby._

The whispering grew louder until it wasn't whispering anymore. It sounded like screaming, except Hermione was sure now that it was inside her head. The hair on her body stood up; something was here with them. She could feel their eyes on her, watching her every move.

The walls started to get even higher. The hole was filling up with water; shocked, Hermione looked down. She realized it wasn't the walls that grew taller but that the floor was sinking in. Cold hands grasped her ankles; the things were dragging them down.

Adrenaline cursed through her veins like waking up from a bad dream.

"Incendio!"

The hands let her go as suddenly as they had grabbed her. Now the screaming was getting worse; whatever these things were, they wouldn't go without a fight. Hermione was ready to give them one.

Inch by inch, the hands were going away. The screaming stopped, leaving only a loud ringing. The horrible smell was gone and they could breathe again easily. But they were still trapped inside the hole.

"You are going to win," Dean said.

"Let's get out of here alive, first."

With the help of a floating spell and Dean's instructions they managed to reach the top. Hermione was ready to climb out when she felt a hand grabbing her.

_Not again._

This hand though, wasn't trying to drag her down but it was helping her to get out. She looked up and saw the familiar red hair. She felt a little disappointed when she realized they were belonging to a girl. Next to her was Luna. "I told you to look out for nargles."

She and Dean had just got out of the hole, when she bombarded them with question: "Have you seen my brother? Is he ok? Did he do anything stupid?" She stopped, took a deep breath and continued: "Tall, red hair, speaks before thinking?"

"I think I saw him." Hermione answered.

"Thank god**! He would manage** to get himself killed before we reach the arena."

"Your brother is cleverer than he looks," Luna said in an eerie voice. Hermione noticed that Dean was avoiding looking at Luna and trying to hide behind her; she tried not to snicker.

The red-haired girl looked at them carefully. She hadn't reacted like Malfoy but Hermione could see she didn't particularly like them. As far as she was concerned, the feeling was mutual. "Let's find this portkey and get the hell out of here." Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

They had barely moved when they heard a loud noise. The green walls started to tremble around them. Hermione feared for a repeat of her previous ordeal but she quickly realized that wasn't the case. The walls started to move and slowly collapse. They folded into themselves like sheets and disappeared. They could see again Hogwarts.

Snape was a few feet away, standing next to a plump boy, who was holding a cup. "It seems Longbottom here managed to accomplish the simple task I gave you."

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